Godric Gilderoy, the continuing adventures of
by no-more-emale
Summary: Everyone's favourite character Gilderoy Lockhart is back to steal center stage. Rowling his only critic ascribed his incredible achievements to pitiful Harry Potter, but now the truth can be revealed. Winner of dozens of wizard writing awards in the category of non-fiction-adventure/defense against the dark arts. Sure to leave you aching for more.
1. Chapter 1

Can't post this for another 12 hours... Oh well. Chapter one of Godric Gilderoy and the chamber of secrets part 1.9:

For readers that have never heard of Harry Potter, it is the story of a boy who abandons his muggle parents (his aunt and uncle) for a life of swashbuckling magic adventures, and ultimately he realizes his destiny of being the chosen one when he defeats Voldemort, a seriously evil wizard. At one point in his zany adventures (with lovestricken sidekicks Hermione and Ron) Harry uses his parcelmouth to go under the sink in the girl's lavatorium where he attempts to blindly fight a Basilisk. For readers unfamiliar with Basilisks, they are ruthless snake overlords, no longer than twelve fingers in the Muggle world, but in the wizarding world they can shapeshift into gigantic serpents with centipede-leg-style snake-teeth. They can kill with a glance or paralyze with a sideways glance. Their only weakness is weasels, particularly their tangy scent. To confront the mighty Basilisk Harry brings his trusty sidequick Ron and legendary elite suave handsome idiot Gilderoy Lockheart. And this is that story.

Resplendent Gilderoy stood with his back to the giant waterslide entrance. The dingy cave had a choking wetness, an oppressive cold air that fought its way bitterly into the pit of Gilderoy's lungs. He surveyed the dark ahead, and was reminded that the only reason he was down there was because the twelve year old boys ahead of him had pushed him into the mouth of the waterslide. Well old Gil would get the last laugh here! A Book aBout a Basilisk. The book that changed the wizarding world (with the magic of words!) A story of how poor country bumblebee Ron Weasley and washed-up child star Harry Potter lost their tiny minds and Gilderoy Lockheart was forced to casually save the day. A classic tale of man, thwarting horrible monsters with cutting sly remarks. Gilderoy would get someone else to do all the real work of course. The true talent in these things was in the writing, anyways. The "action" came and went. But his words were truth, for the rest of time.

The only thing Gilderoy needed was a wand. He had lost his... Somehow. He honestly doesn't remember - don't bother looking it up in the books, it's really a terrible misrepresentation of actual events. Smooth as a snake Gilderoy slid up to Ron. His eyes fixed on the Weasley's loose fingers. He licked his lips. And heroically lunged!

Ron reacted far too late. In a moment Gilderoy had the wand in his hand and pointed straight at Harry, before he could raise his own.

"Well boys, it seems this is the end. But don't worry. You will be remembered as heroes, poor young souls with bright futures that went all too dim all too soon. All in my books. Oh Ron your sister is definitely dead by the way. Think of this as a favour - you won't have to see her all lifeless and inhuman. You see boys I am rather gifted with memory charms. Can't have the real heroes going all blabby once my books are out - bad for the presses. I could go on, but why bother?" He smiled and brandished the twisted wand clumsily through the air.

"móros!" he yelled at the end of his breath.

A red light spun from the tip of Gilderoy's wand. The flash encompassed both boys, the light seeming to split through their heads. But the spell also managed to echo off the stony walls and the entrance (and more importantly exit) to the cave collapsed! Gilderoy was trapped!

"Euuuuuh, uh, hmmm wot hit my hed?" stuttered Ron, gingerly rubbing his temples.

"I think your cave has collapsed" stated Harry, staring at Gilderoy blankly from behind his dusty round glasses.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

There was nowhere to go but onwards. To face this supposed Basilisk. In the deepest back of his brain he thought... Maybe this was the time to do it for real. Gilderoy is not a hero. But he is well-read. Funny, perhaps, that the very year he should arrive at the school they should face the dreaded basilisk of Sa- uh, Salvymhrhjhmshter Slytherin. Because in all the old tales and ancient memories of the days when wizards (yes even wizards) fought like beasts amongst all the other animals - old wives tales of remedies to all of the world's monsters - lingered. Gilderoy had read them all. And of all the horrors of legend the basilisk was what Gilderoy Lockheart was most fascinated with.

He knew it was in the school. He read that on the wrapper of an obscure Turkish candy which had a fun fact and flavour pairing suited exactly to your taste and interest irrespectively. He was maybe eight years old? By the time he was fifteen he had more than just a legend. He had a copy of Slytherin's blueprints. All along he had known exactly where the monster slept, but with the chamber being opened it would be too suspicious to share his rare knowledge. Some of the staff and many students suspected Harry of opening the chamber. Gilderoy suspected rather that Harry was the target. None of the staff suspected him of course. They thought it must be another student... Not a chance. Severus Snape is the one to open secret chambers, and if ever he had a mortal enemy it was plain that his enemy was, for whatever reason, Harry Potter. Snape is of course a death eater, but that doesn't bother noble Gilderoy to any extent of slight. Basilisks are something else entirely.

Basilisks do have one very potent weakness. The scent of a weasel renders them strangely helpless. Weasels themselves will try to attack a Basilisk whenever they can, even though they never eat the carcasses nor inhabit their lairs. In fact weasels usually make an attempt to fill in the creature's lair with all the scorched earth that lies around their holes, burned by the evil that lives amongst the roots. If this doesn't happen nothing will grow upon the poison terrain, though legends say the first Phoenixes might have been born from filled in basilisk lairs. Gilderoy and his two idiot companions were approaching the main chamber, the masterpiece of design that no eyes would ever set foot on. The secret room of Salazar Slytherin!

"Alright Harry. I suspect that this is a trap laid for you and you alone. I don't want to sound unimpressive but not all of us can handle a killing curse to the forehead." Gilderoy smiled his award winning smile. Harry didn't react.

"Anyways Harry," Gileroy continued, "why don't you go on ahead? Just see what's out there."

"Is this your bedroom?" Harry asked awkwardly before awkwardly wandering into the great chamber beyond.

The black waters shine like mirrors in the faint green light that seems to spring from the air itself. The carved heads of snakes, twenty feet tall, line the sides row on row, mouths unhinged and great granite teeth poised above flowing forked tongues. They seem to lick their own reflections as they hover above the water. And past each pair a smooth surface like glass passing arrow-straight through the magic room, leading on to the masterpiece of Slytherin, a carved head, bearded, shouting, with snakes twisting from the grey skull. The savage faces rises up from a smattered pool, and overlooks the body of a red-haired girl, lying as though struck down. Standing just a few paces away is Tom Riddle.

"Harry. At last. You're too late to save her you know. In just moments my spell will be complete. She will be dead. But I will return, fed by her waning strength."

"Is this your bedroom?"

"It's no u- eh, what now?"

"Who are you again?"

"I'm lord Volde- er I mean. I am Tom Riddle. Actually to hell with it. I am lord Voldemort. As a sixteen year old."

"Lord who?"

This conversation went on for some time. Lord Voldemort had been looking forward to revealing his secret evil identity to Harry and observing his dismay at the death of his future wife. But the more he tried to boast his victory the more he realized that Harry had forgotten all about lord Voldemort, and Tom Riddle found himself impatiently having to explain to Harry just about 50 years of world history, not to mention how he killed Harry's parents and how Harry had thwarted him in the last movie. Needless to say this took a while - and Gilderoy sprung into action.

Swimming gracefully under the water that lined the side of the chamber, Gilderoy managed to sneak behind the furious Dark Lordling. He drew his wand...

"Stupefy!"

His spell missed! Tom Riddle dove out of the way and the curse struck Harry, though he was already so dumb it had almost no effect.

"Is this your bedroom?" Harry began again.

Tom Riddle yelled in rage. He would have to explain everything to Harry all over again! Also he now had to deal with this handsome, soaking wizard.

"Fuck this. Basilisk time!" Tom Riddle screamed in Parceltongue.

From the mouth of the great statue came the fearsome Basilisk to the call of its master. The horror! It had the head and tail of a snake, but the body was that of a gigantic chicken, and long swooping feathers flowed from its serpentine tail. But Gilderoy was prepared. As soon as the janitor's cat was petrified (that's not an expression - that actually did happen) Gilderoy had wizired to his tailor and request a very fine new set of cloaks. Made of course from the Basilisk's bane - weasel. His coat would protect him for a time. The basilisk would surely kill the other non-weasel clad figures before it dared turn its attention to him. The only danger now was the thing's eyes. Of these Gilderoy was very fearful, for his fame had taught him the importance of eye contact if nothing else.

But what was that! A red flash, swooping down from the dark ceiling. A phoenix! There was something in its talons... A leather bag or somesuch, no doubt containing some kind of weapon. It dropped the bag at Harry's feet before swooping on the basilisk, clawing out its eyes!

"No! What is your bird doing?" Tom Riddle asked angrily, still talking to Harry even though it was obvious Harry had no sense of ownership toward the phoenix.

"Well, my basilisk may not be able to see you. But it can still hear you!" Tom said, lamely trying to save face.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Gilderoy was pleased. It was basically all over now. What luck! Perhaps living the adventures was just as good as writing about them. The basilisk was blind, and though still dangerous, Gilderoy had the perfect weapon to finish off the sorry creature of legend. From his dripping coat pocket he pulled Ronald Weasle-y, blank faced and limp. And with a chivalrous flick of his chivalrous wrist Gilderoy tossed the boy weasel straight at the basilisk!

Instantly Ron set to work, his primitive Weasle-y instincs kicking in. He kicked and bit, snarled and clawed, while the winged chicken-snake shook with fear at his horrible stench. It was over in seconds. Ron had killed the dreaded basilisk.

Tom Riddle was ready to admit he was having a bad day. All his plans seemed to come to naught before his eyes, plans that had been carefully laid years and years ago. He was taking the whole thing pretty hard, and for some reason he was really bothered that Harry had forgotten about him. The-boy-who-lived. If you tried to kill someone and they survived, wouldn't you have a soft spot in your cold heart for them, too?

"It's too late Potter. Even with the basilisk dead. In exactly sixty seconds Ginny's life will be drained completely, and I will actually totally exist in the real world again. The power of the diary cannot be undone."

Gilderoy on the other hand was having a great day. A real basilisk! How many photographers would fit down here, he wondered. Next year Gilderoy might turn this space into his office. It had a grandeur that wasn't necessarily comfortable, but the status and opulence of such a room was undeniable. But it wouldn't be a total victory unless he saved the Weasley girl as well. If only it were one of the boys dying, that would probably help his story, but having 2 living boys and 1 dead girl just didn't read well. Riddle mentioned a diary, which must of course be the black book lying by helpless Ginny.

"Who are you again?" Harry asked Lord Voldemort. As the youthfull Voldemort began explaining, from the top, his evil deeds and murders, Gilderoy seized his opportunity, and seized the diary from the floor. He knew it must be a horcrux to manifest part of old Voldy's soul, so he would need more than a simple spell to destroy it. He looked at the basilisk's teeth, row on row of them, dripping with enchanted venom. But basilisks teeth could sell for unbelievable sums of glittering money, and Gilderoy would gladly let Ginny die if the price for her life was to stain one of the priceless fangs. Instead he walked over to the leather bag the phoenix had dropped and looked inside.

It was empty.

But... wait. What's that? A glittering in the air. And then - a ruby hilt. Inlaid on silver. Gilderoy drew the sword from the bag, and noticed it wasn't a bag at all - it was an old leather witch's hat! The blade came free with the sound of ringing metal. The silver blade like liquid shone with a brightness that did not exist in the dim chamber. He lightly tossed the diary into the air, and clove it in two with a swift swing of the shining sword.

"...and then I had your dad's friend betray your parent's location and blame it on your god-father, who is currently going mad in Azkaban. When I showed up at th-AAAAAHHHH!" Tom Riddle was cut off mid-explanation. Yellow light split through his body, and he began to curse like a muggle and disintegrate. Harry's expression remained blank.

"Well, I'm glad this all ended so happily. You know I was slightly hesitant to come down here at all? Glad I did in the end. All my choice it was. Haha! If you two had any minds you'd be happy too." Gilderoy said, mostly to himself.

"Anyways, lets get out of here. I need a shower. PHOENIX!" The phoenix came.

"To the surface please!" Gilderoy said, putting Ron Weasley back in his pocket, and placing the sorting hat on top of his luscious and luminous curls of hair, which rather completed his outfit and made him without a doubt the most stylish wizard within a thousand miles. Taking the hands of the three mentally absent children, he let the red bird carry them through a mysterious exit, back to civilization.


	4. Chapter 4-8

Introductions Manager: Godric Gilderoy and The Excessive Tails: Rupart One!

Narra.: No listener, your ears deceive you not. For now, the first time ever is the recorded written transcript

of the first,- ever live reading of Godric Gilderoy in all of history, magic and non.

Last time you read from us, heroic hero Gilderoy Lockheart had just finished saving Hogwarts from the evil Tom

Riddle and his giant python of a rooster Mr. E.B. Basilisk, who was afterwards buried toothless in an unmarked

grave, with nobody but the narrator (that's me) able to recall his true name. His many titles and lands passed

to his 500 deceased sons and daughters. But welcome now to the aftermath of that memorable event, in an epic

entitled:

Godric Gilderoy and the Excessive Tales: Rupart One!

GL: Good time of day, international listeners. It is I, your hero, Gilderoy Lockhart, the famous allegorical

name and first thereof. As the narrator forgot to mention, I went immediately to see Dumbledore, directly after

selling all the Basilisk's teeth one night on Nocturn Alley. When I got to the headmaster's office I explained

all that had transpired in the chamber of Secrets earlier last chapter. I brought with me the brainless zombie

Harry Potter, and concealed in my breast pocket was my secret weapon, PocketRon. Dumbledore spoke.

Dumb: A fine job you've done here Gilderoy. It takes a very courageous heart to pull the sword of Godric

Griffin-door from the sorting hat. They look very nice on you you know... My god you look heroic.

GL: Eh, ah thank-you monsieur Dubledeedore. I look very much forward to working with you next term, and ah...

For now, I am off! Plenty of mysteries still left unwritten! Good day!

Narra.: With that Gilderoy left the headmaster's office, before Dumbledore had a chance to demand the return of

the sword of Griffin-door or, more importantly, the dashing Sorting Hat that looked so well on Gilderoy's

immaculately kept head of immaculately kept hair.

Gilderoy was accosted at the bottom of the stairs.

Her: HELLO!

GL: Euch! What are you?

Her: I'm Hermione Granger. I've just been un-petrified. And those are my friends you're holding.

GL: I hate to be the bearer of bad news but both your friends went mad at the sight of mini-Weasley's twisted

disembodied body. Since they can't continue their lives at Hogwarts I've decided to take them with me on

dangerous adventures. Now step aside, there's a good girl, the real plot beckons.

Her: You'll never get to an interesting plot at this rate. Besides, I might be able to help you on your

adventures. For example. Historia Deliquus!

Instantly the small group was transported to the middle of chapter seven.

The middle of Chapter 7: Titled: Godric Gilderoy and the misplaced (and misleading) throwaway-joke Chapter header

Gilderoy peeked over the top of the overturned table. He glanced about the dust-filled room but saw no sign of the Hairy MacBoon that was his quarry. Maybe he should give up this new life of true heroism. He could live here beneath the imagined safety of the overturned table, and spend the rest of his days glancing about in terror of the five-legged beast he foolishly thought he could tackle. Where was Hermione? If she didn't get here soon it could all be over.

A rustling sound across the room. A huge stack of old parchment cascading from a high shelf in a pale waterfall of faded pages and dust. Then something smashing, closer now.

For readers unfamiliar with Hairy MacBoons, I didn't make them up. Really I didn't. Also known as Quintapeds, they are five-legged magical beasts that used to be Scotsmen. They are also very dangerous. Really they are.

Gilderoy maintained his position behind the all-too-thin table. He looked about, not daring to move his head, vainly searching for a mirror, lest his hair should be out of place when his body was found ripped to pieces. Unsuccessful, he cast his eyes toward the door, beyond which Harry was, hopefully, waiting, and almost definitely oblivious to just about everything that was going on. Any second now the Hairy MacBoon would find him.

"Come one Hermion!" He thought to himself. Well if she was going to arrive late that was her business. Gilderoy wasn't about to just up and die here. Desperately he pulled PocketRon from his coat, held his wand against the idiot boy's forehead and recited the words Hermione had taught him:

"Grunt, Grant Grunt, grunt grunt and Grint..!"

As soon as the incantation was finished PocketRon began to transform. His nose thrusted forward and darkened, his head and body already shrinking. His eyes, small and black now, above whiskers protruding like shoots from his face. The red hair on his head seemed to recede back into the empty trestles of his brain, but all over his body now a coat of soft orange fur was sprouting. Within seconds the transformation was complete, and from the folded jumper of Ron Weasley emerged Rupert, the smartest weasel the world had ever seen.

Quickly and cleverly Rupert ran away.

"Damnit!" Shouted Gilderoy, momentarily forgetting the severity of his predicament.

Instantly the table he would have called home exploded. Splinters rained down on Gilderoy and a thick cloud of dust obscured all. For a moment in time the room was stillness, then a thick red-haired hoof broke through the blasted fog and clomped to the ground not an inch from terrified hero Gilderoy.

Luckily at that moment Hermione arrived and tore the wall off of the shack, most likely with some clever spell. Blinding sunlight fought its way through the blinding splinter-dust and the Hairy MacBoon paused - just long enough for Gilderoy to spring to his feet!

"Harry!" He called. And into the room now walked Harry, and the Hairy MacBoon was surrounded. It clomped to the middle of the room, quaking legs aching to escape.

"Och tung gnbarleby bloch guhn!" Articulated the creature unintelligibly.

Perhaps you are wondering why the wizards don't subdue the critter with some type of magic. Hairy MacBoons are, as plainly stated in my previous description, magical entities, and are in fact quite immune to magic themselves. Gilderoy could kill it with the sword of Godric Griffin-door but as a matter of fact Hairy MacBoons used to be a prominent family of human wizards before being cursed by their rival clan and turned into super-powerful quintapeds. This being the case our heroes thought it inhumane to kill the thing, inhuman as it now was, and were instead set on capturing it alive and bringing it back to its home island where it wouldn't cause any more trouble.

"Wait a minute. Something isn't right here." Gilderoy realized. "We've gone back to book format. This isn't a transcribed live recording at all. Hermione, what's going on?"

Hermione answered.

"Something must have happened during the two and a half chapters I skipped that reverted the format of this Gilderoy fanfic. Look, as I speak the fourth walls are crumbling away to nothing!"

And indeed it was so. Hermione, Rupert, Harry, Gilderoy, even the nameless MacBoon all turned to look now out of the shattered computer screen towards the reader. Nervously the narrator tried to get around the uncomfortable fact that they were powerless to say what the reader was doing, and hoped that the reader had enough imagination themselves to determine exactly how they fit into the story.

"Poor thing!" said Hermione. "They look so bored!"

The MacBoon in the center of the room was ecstatic. It's mind sprang in spring and its legs were elastic. It turned its eyes numbering more than four towards the reader. And fell in love.

-CRASH-

The shack's chandelier came down with all the force of earth's gravity. The great old bronze structure lay now on top of the nefariously Hairy MacBoon in the center of the room. The heroes, narrator, and reader all imagined themselves glancing up. And behold! Rupert, holding his weasel head at an angle to make it appear he was smiling, and between his teeth: The frayed rope of the chandelier!

"Hooray!" You say, too loud for the place in which you are reading.

"Hooray!" Say the characters in the story, minus of course the trapped and reeling quintaped.

Hooray!

Chapter eight: The untitled chapter

The long line of wizards passed the blue box to the twisted hands that extended from the back of the carriage. The blue box covered in locks disappeared into the mysterious dark, and the carriage trundled away, pulled by beasts few eyes could see. The Odd Minister stayed behind, to thank the heroes.

"You... Have saved us, a great - deal of: annoyance, capturing this unaccountably... Misplaced Hairy MacBoon. The Ministry thanks you." The Odd Minister Stephen Harpy procured a pin from his pocket. He affixed it to a brooch from his brocade bouquet (which he kept with him at all times) and affixed this then unto and onto Godric Gilderoy, the proud hero who did almost nothing involving saving the day.

"This pin will let anyone who looketh upon you know - you know - that you've done... Pretty alright in my damn books." Odd Minister Stephen Harpy looked then at Harry, and there was noticed by all an odd twinkle in his dead gray eye. "We do look so forward, to seeing you again." He said, smiled, and disapparated.

"What an unpleasant man. Now I badly want a shower." Hermione stated, trying to ignore the foul taste the Odd Minister's presence had left in her mouth.

"Oh don't be silly Hermione. He's not a bad fellow. Look at this pin on this brooch! Isn't it magnificent?"

Indeed Gilderoy did look magnificent. His artistically frayed and dusted saffron-coloured modern-style uptown-downtown-cut wizarding robe with weasel-scented trim: His fantastic jeweled sword-belt and scabbard, the sword, the hair, the sorting hat. And twinkling on his trendily labeled lapel, the brooch and pin. A twisted rollercoaster of colour, texture, and magical artistic motion. And that smile!

"Enough of this ego-upping monsieur the narrator. That's one case of quintaped nicely gift wrapped and sent back to the Isle of Drear. I hope he does alright the cheeky bugger. I grew a bit to like him by the end." Gilderoy remarked mistily.

In a cold box locked and clamped in the cramped back of the trundling carriage: Father Quintius MacBoon waits shivering and listening feeling for the first time in his life sober fear. A serpentine voice speaks from the black of the carriage:

"...His will will be bent to mine..."

There is a sound like a wand being drawn. The voice of Mr Harpy saying something which is muffled by the case. A series of clicks... The lid of the crate, unfettered, is opened. But the MacBoon cannot move. He is locked in the grips of a most powerful magic. He hears the dark words of a spell being uttered, like the whisper of a snake sliding slithering through the long grass. He casts one last thought to his beloved, beautiful reader... Then calm, then blackness, then nothing.


	5. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Gilderoy was lounging on his leather wizarding chair when Hermione entered the room.

"Got anything?" He asked.

"Not a thing. It's very strange. I think it's too soon to call it peace in the wizarding world, but on the surface everything seems calm. I'm nervous Gilderoy... It feels like something big is about to happen."

"Don't be silly. Clearly we've just been doing a fantastic job of cleaning up the old odds and ends. If there's no mysteries to solve and no critters to wrangle, well, consider it a compliment to our endless hard work."

"Not like this Gilderoy. Nobody's as much as lost an owl since we captured those senna-drinkers a few weeks ago. There is an old muggle saying that the most dangerous forest is a silent one."

"Relax Hermione. Don't you think on it. In a week or so you'll be back at Hogwarts and probably even safer than I can keep you." He smiled the smile that won him the award for the third time. "If there's nothing to be done we may as well relax. Go on, enjoy the last of your holiday." He glanced quickly at the safe in the corner of the room. "You've earned it."

* * *

The first day back at Hogwarts. In the great hall the staff and students waited for the first-years to disembark their boats and see for the first time the wonder of the most mighty magic school. All around people were smiling and chatting, and the horror and excitement of the Basilisk had long since passed from everyone's minds - though some students had heard tell that a certain Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher had a new office in a secret Chamber deep within Hogwarts...

Dumbledore stood from his grand chair and instantly the room was silent. All eyes turned attentive to the legendary Headmaster, though Dumbledore himself seemed casually amused and - could it be? - a little drunk.

"Greetings to all our new students. Welcome to Hogwarts. I am sure that what you have seen in your short time here has, already, given rise to many questions, and I assure you these all will be answered in time. For now, we must try to proceed with the Sorting ceremony... Unfortunately, our classic sassy Sorting Hat has, hmm... Has decided to take leave of its duties at Hogwarts, after many long years of faithful service. Instead, students will be sorted by filling out a ScanTron personality test that I d/l'd off my '90s muggle internet mere minutes before arriving to this very... Important event.

"Students if you please: Be sure to fill in darkly and completely the circle that corresponds to your answer. Should you wish to change an answer, do not try to erase, but instead put a large X over the answer you wish be ignored. It says here that you must use a PaperFriend brand No10 pencil, not a pen or a quill... Hang on.

"We haven't got any pencils at Hogwarts.

"Well bugger this then. How about we let the students pick their own houses. Yes you heard me! Scamper to your tables now you little fleamonkeys!" At this the students nervously rushed to find a place, caring more for finding an open seat than about which house the seat belonged to.

"Good enough. These houses are rather old-hat anyhow." Dumbledore, saying this, cast a glance at Gilderoy, who missed Dumbledore's pun and stared back blankly.

"No more of this character segregation. The houses have for too long divided us in useless competition. Perhaps this year we can all use our strengths to help our fellow students. I must ask the older students not to speculate on their new comrades. You may find that not all courageous lions need roar."

At that the feast began. The voices reached high and happy up towards the roof of the great hall, and the ceiling was clear and starry. As the evening began to unwind, Dumbledore again made an announcement.

"Well. It seems we are all getting along: I will let you go to your quarters after I introduce the new staff. Don't worry; the list is quite short this year. You will of course be excited to have the... Very capable Gilderoy Lockhart back for another year as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. I am sure many of you read his newest book over the summer and have many questions for him. I ask only that you let it not interfere with your schoolwork, but otherwise, I surmise that Gilderoy is more than happy to talk of his accomplishments. But making his debut this year as an unpaid Teacher's Assistant, please welcome to Hogwarts: Remus Lupin."

At the far end of the teacher's table a kindly-eyed man and his moustache stood and bowed curtly. He had hardly sat down when the students began to flood out of the great hall and seek their rooms, old students striding coolly and new students wandering with eyes cast skyward, stumbling in wonder through the castle.

* * *

"Quick quick. Right this way lad. Pull this off and you'll make the quidditch team for sure." Fred jostled the first year as they hurried down the black service tunnel. A steady drip sounded the time in the background of Fred's mind. If this was going to be any good it had to be perfect.

Thirty easy paces, one drip per step. Wait fifteen drips. Advance ten drips. Hush now while Filch passes above, a sort of beloved helpless nemesis. He's been at this long enough to know somethings up; and paranoid enough by far to listen for footsteps in the tunnels where the floor is thin enough you might hear them. Okay hurry on now lad. Straight ahead twenty three drips. That's right, shush now lad. Alright, the light, here we are. Seven drips. A brown putty applied at the crucial point of the wafting grate. Two... Three... A fairly small explosion.

And they were in.

...Wow.

The entrance to the Chamber was unlike anything Fred could have expected. Hogwarts didn't have secrets: Hogwarts pretended to have secrets. Until one day students started getting petrified by one of the largest creatures to ever, uh, traverse the earth. Fred and George had wracked their brains trying to find out where the bloody thing could be hiding. Not even Dumbledore knew the castle as well as they: He'd told them as much himself. They reckoned he was inches from soliciting their help when Gilderoy stumbled upon the whole mess and somehow managed to clean it up, obvious fraud though he was.

If they'd known Ginny was taken they would have got there first, no question. Life may be a great joke but family is serious business. A shame about Ron to be sure but all in all it ended well: The little sister is somehow more valuable than the little brother. Besides, idiot Ron was an improvement. Idiot Ron knew how to keep his bloody mouth shut. More than that, now he could turn into a weasel and nick just about anything. George tried to find a way to turn into a weasel without going the whole animagus route - many others have tried but the drawbacks always outweigh the benefits. It would be a sight of fun to have three weasels running about the schools getting into all kinds of mischief - and who could tell them apart then? It would be like having yet another bloody twin.

Ron wasn't in on this scheme though. This was classic: Just Fred and George. Well there was also the first year, Joffrey, who had the rotten luck to be born to muggles and named after one of the worst characters from A Song of Ice and Fire which was selling well in wizard and muggle bookshops alike. A bit anachronistic for Fred's taste but you can't let wizards write all the greats can you?

There was also Moaning Myrtle, by far the largest liability in this plot, though her information was as usual astute and invaluable. Repaying her wasn't hard either: Being dead she couldn't touch anything but she sure did like a good look.

Joffrey was obviously nervous. Interesting lad from the first. He managed to stumble to the griffin-door table during the sorry attempt at a sorting ceremony, but this lad was Hufflepuff material if he was for Hogwarts at all. Intriguing lad for those with the eye for mischief though. Most kids bring an owl, or a toad, or a rat, a cat, anything really. But how many muggle-born kids just happen to own a very cooperative snake?

"Okay Joff, this is where you come in. See that door there? This might sound strange but I just want you to talk to that door the same way you talk to Mr. Flickers." Mr. Flickers. What a shite name for a snake.

"W-what do you mean? What do I say? It's - it's just a door."

"Come on lad don't back out now! There's really nothing to it. There might be some things you'll have to get to know about yourself later on but Hogwarts is the best place for it. For now, just do as I tell you. Say anything. Just imagine you're talking to Mr. Fli - uh, your snake."

The boy approached the door. He noticed as he neared the carved figures of snakes surrounding the round doorway.

"Sssalhar, nasshebethine. Hesssar, nahabess sssaeiin"

Fred tried to pretend that his skin didn't crawl at the sound of the boy unknowingly speaking parceltongue. Fred tried to pretend he didn't get a bit nervous when the snakes that guarded the door were unbound, one by one, and the round swung ominously open. Fred hadn't been nervous of sneaking about since the start of first year.

"Good work lad. You wouldn't believe me if I told you how few people there are as can do what you've just done. Now you can try to go back on your own but you'll likely get nabbed by Filch or one of the other wandering weirdos. You can wait here and try not to get the willies, or you can come with me and try not to screw anything up."

"I... I-I'll come with you."

"Ey great! Relax Joff the hard work's well behind us. Stick close and whatever you do, don't make a peep."

* * *

Gilderoy awoke feeling fresh and ready. He spent the morning preparing himself for his first day back at teaching. He shaved; everything. He washed and combed his hair. He put on his new fashionable (yet respectable-looking) robes. He decided to leave the sword of Godric Griffin-door hanging in the closet, but decided to wear the Sorting Hat in case it should rain later on.

But the sorting hat was gone.


End file.
